Ghosts
by Aidokime
Summary: Post 2007 movie: Something happened to Jace Hunt in Mission City, but what? Will going back there bring back his past, or cut off his future?
1. Preludes

**Preludes**

Amid the burning wreckage, it shone clearly, like the heart of a star.

Colors danced through the orb in all the hues in the visible spectrum-- and possibly beyond. Reds. Blues. Violets. Gold-- all twining together, then flying apart as though they were in the middle of some sort of grand tango. A living rainbow; delicate. Exciting. Ephemeral.

Dying.

The unfortunate man who had been fleeing to the shelter was watching it from where he crouched in the flicker of its pale blue shadow.

Then the shadow died, fading away into nothing-- and leaving the orb itself naked to hum quietly in the muted chaos.

The glow diminished.

The man's gaze was still fixed upon it though. It was... beautiful. He wanted to just stand there and watch it, ignoring the roar of the battle still being fought overhead. Ignore the pain from bruises on his face, and the gash in his side that bled crimson to mingle with the darker fluids coming from the torn silver frame in which he could see the orb pulsating weakly.

It was trapped within a form that could no longer sustain it, he realized. It was dying, and there was nothing that one battered and bleeding man could do to stop it.

He reached for it.

The light was splendor. It shouldn't be left alone. It sang to him.

"...no..." The faint voice rattled from a head that reminded the man of something. Grecian sculpture, perhaps, wings brushing the helm, a fainter still glow still illuminating shadowed features. "... don't touch..."

The orb's dance slowed yet again, its internal glow fading through the slower end of the spectrum. Orange. Red. Like the dying embers of a fire.

Still, the man reached for it, shaking hands not stilled by the voice. Curiosity burning brighter than the orb. Would it be hot? Would it be rough? Or smooth, like the sleek silver that barely contained it.

Fingertips brushed the surface.

With a mad crackle of energy, a flash burst from the center of the dying orb, leaping through the outstretched hand.

And then there was darkness.


	2. Miracles

**Miracles**

A persistent sound bothered him at first; in the endless cycle of dark and light, the constant incoherent noise of something beeping was like a form of torture. It didn't change, however, and it passed into the background soon enough.

Low murmurs punctuated the bright times. Voices that rose and fell with the distance of shadows that hovered nearby. It took him a while to realize that they were even there, and that they were talking. He struggled to understand.

What were they discussing?

Another cycle passed, and the voices and shadows returned with another realization.

He was being touched. Carefully, and gently, someone was touching him, and murmuring a few soothing tones. A professional care.

_Where was he?_

The words were becoming familiar, almost as though he'd heard this strange sort of language before.

He had.

He knew what they were saying. Clarity started to settle into his fuzzy world.

"... everything will be all right, Jace." The higher pitched voice told him, as the shadow brushed against his forehead. "I'll be here again tomorrow."

Beyond the healing touch, he could barely hear another murmur. Someone else nearby, perhaps?

"... vegetative state is due to electrocution compounded with head injury. It's been two weeks. The other injuries are healing well, however, if he doesn't come out of it soon there'll be no hope."

He understood.

His name was Jace. Something had happened, and now he was...

_Where? What happened?_

A flash of light took everything, spinning him away into a void...

"Doctor Nichols?" The light voice called someone else, as he realized he'd spoken through a dry and painful throat. "He just spoke."

"Are you sure?"

Jace blinked, the world around him coming into a hazy sort of focus. _People?_

Things didn't look quite right. Almost alien.

_Who was he?_

He frowned at the world, feeling the odd sensation of the movement. He was weak-- horribly so.

"Wonders will never cease." The second man was speaking again, as he moved close, "Son, how're you feeling?"

"I'm... alive." Jace hesitated for a moment before answering, "What happened? Where am I?"

"County hospital. I'm not sure what happened out there in the city, no one official will tell us. " Dr. Nichols smiled, "They told us you were the victim of a car hitting a power pole, and getting caught by the wire. Doesn't add up, but you're awake, and that's the most important thing right now. The rest you'll have to fill us in on as it comes up."

"I don't remember..." he mumbled. "There's something not right. I just don't know what it is--"

"You'll be fine now, it's not every day that someone takes that much voltage and lives. It's a miracle." The kind smile was constant, and Jace wasn't going to resist. "Now, we're going to run a few tests, to make sure everything is healing nicely."

For the moment, Jace couldn't argue.


	3. Spooks

**Spooks**

Dark suits and ties were really out of place among the white coats and pastel uniforms of hospital personnel.

Maybe that's why Jace noticed them so quickly.

Not that they really would have had to do much to hide their presence in the hospital, Jace was finding it hard to keep track of the blur of faces and people that kept passing through his room. Even the woman who had been there when he 'awakened' was difficult to pick out, and she was supposed to be his sister. He'd had to have Danielle pointed to a number of times before he'd made the association-- brown hair, brown eyes.

Jace was just so uncertain. It felt, in some ways, as though he were blind. Yet another one of those little things that seemed so wrong. Blindness. Deafness. Motor imparement.

His vision, they'd determined almost immediately, hadn't been affected by whatever had changed the color of his eyes from hazel to pale blue.

The only nerve damage was in his hand, the fritzy condition of his memory was being put off as some side effect of the electrocution. He could remember facts and figures like nobody else-- but when it came to his own personal history, nothing.

Jace knew he was seeing the dark figures in the shadows, rather than hallucinating them.

And now that Jace was going down to the therapy room every other day, he was seeing them more-- and starting to recognize individual faces.

Six cycles of darkness and light after he had found himself in this place, and he was already so restless he could punch something. Jace frowned, waiting impatiently for the therapist's aid to come back for him.

"Jason Hunt?" A voice asked him, as one of the shadows near the elevator doors moved.

Jace tried not to jump as the man called him by the familiar/unfamiliar name.

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"I have a few questions for you." The spooky man said, removing a pair of oversized sunglasses as he took a seat next to Jace on the bench. "If you don't mind."

The tone implied that this guy didn't really care if Jace minded or not, he was going to get his answers.

"Who're you, and what do you want with me?"

"I work for the government. Sector Seven." A badge was briefly flashed, and stowed before Jace could get a good look at it. "I want to know what you remember about Mission City."

Jace frowned.

"It is very important, sir. What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me" Jace said. "I don't have a fraggin' clue what happened in someplace that I've never been."

"You were there, Jason." A sly, almost sly smile. "How do you think you got hurt?"

"Car wreck." Jace said shortly, "Hit a telephone pole or somethin'. That's what they told me."

"They told you?"

"I don't even remember what kinda car I was drivin'-- camero, solstice, civic. Who knows. I don't." This guy knew something that he wasn't telling. Jace scowled, forcing his scarred hand into a fist. "Why don't you answer some of my questions now. Who are you, and what do you know about me?"

"I don't answer the questions, young man." The horribly snake-like smile was still plastered on the suit's face. "I ask them."

_Stay calm. He's trying to get a reaction._

"Well then, Mr. Government, sir. Maybe I could help you more if you'd ask me a question. Why're you all here. Not just for me? And why does your friend over there keep pointing that box at me, and muttering about rads?"

The government agent lost his smile.

"Simmons-- try to be more descrete." He rose, making a gesture to the other three lurking figures Jace had noticed, "We're done here."

Almost as quietly as they'd tried to sneak up on him, Jace watched them go.

He had not been in an accident, he realized, as the aide came to take him to his appointment. Whatever it had been, the government was involved. And that alone made him ... curious.

The agents had found that he knew nothing.

Jace would have to change that.


	4. Cumbersome

**Cumbersome**

_He was flying through the vacuum of space, watching the star that this tiny planet orbited. His was a gaze of someone familiar with the life cycle of such bodies of lights, and used to the sight. Infared and X-ray gave him technical readouts that would be the envy of many scientists who studied bodies like this._

_The red giant was in the slow process of going nova._

_Maybe it wouldn't explode today, but it still held nothing that he was looking for, and neither, for that matter, was the dead planet circling it. There were signs that had led him to hope-- but all were false._

_It would probably be best to get back to the ship, so that they could continue their journey._

_He gave a quick call back to those still aboard, and sailed his way back towards the hatch he had exited only a few hours before. The constant radio chatter kept him company. His friends were waiting for him to return._

_"Everything OK out there?" The complex tones of his language asked him in between the pulses of the star. With only a moment, the concern was relayed to him. "You're being awfully quiet out there."_

_"Perfectly fine," he responded in the time it took to think about the radio. It was natural. Just as the message being personalized to address only him was natural. "This sun is going to go nova soon, and there's no sign of life in the system. We can probably move on."_

_"You had to go outside to figure that out?" Another voice chided him, "I could have told you that from here. The sensors aren't showing anything important. Come on back."_

_And then there was silence, except for the song of a red star against the cold of space against his skin. He reached for the hatch, brushing against cold metal..._

Jace woke hard, head snapping up from where he'd fallen asleep sitting up again.

For a moment, he felt the freedom of his dream-- the chill of space, the lightness of his body agilely moving towards a place that could almost be called a home.

And then he awakened here, sitting on the sofa of his sister's condo, still awkward. Still slow.

Cumbersome.

The computer on his lap glowed faintly at him, having turned its screen off to save energy hours ago. It was almost dark now. Danielle would be home soon, and ask him how his day had been. And he'd tell her the same thing he'd told her for the week and a half he'd been staying with her.

Tiring. Unproductive. Jace didn't want to tell her that the only reason he remembered her name right now is that he'd repeated it to himself every time he saw her.

Stiffly, he rubbed his face, wondering why the dream had felt so real.

He had never been in space-- and he'd die without the space suit that had been missing from the dream.

Jace flicked a key on the computer, waking it from its slumber. If he was awake, it should be working too. The last thing that he'd been looking at stared at him from the browser. The government didn't have an agency called 'Sector Seven'. There was no such thing. He'd tried just about everything on this slow interface to get more information-- and failed.

Which left Jace without any clues.

Except for one.

Six articles about the rebuilding going on in Mission City stared back at him as though they were accusing him of something. The very few pictures showed buildings destroyed, streets torn up.

Some sort of military and civilian joint project., they told Jace, gone awry, and costing a few million dollars-- and a few dozen lives.

He'd been there.

That much he'd confirmed from the hospital staff. They'd brought him in from Mission City on the day that this... disaster happened. Jace had been there, just as the spooky guy had told him. But he still didn't know what really happened.

The click of a key in the lock broke through his musings, and Jace quickly shut down the computer and picked up one of the books on the side table.

"Hey, Danni." Jace said easily, and before she could ask him, "How was work?"

"Same old, same old." The door clicked shut behind her, as she made directly for him. "How is my favorite brother doing today?"

"I thought I was your only brother," Jace smiled at her, "I fell asleep while I was reading, but otherwise I'm just fine."

"What're you reading?" Danielle looked a little suspicious as she leaned over to look at the title. "Nice try. I don't think that's quite your type though."

Jace looked at the book in his hands. The man and woman on the cover were in a state of undress, and...

Oh. Romance novel.

"Maybe I'm branching out?" He offered.

"Maybe." Danielle laughed, and took another look at him. "Hey. You're all spiffed up today. What sparked this change?"

"Change?" Jace frowned, glancing at the clothing he'd found tucked away in the spare room.

"Yeah." Danielle sighed, "Maybe that's what they were talking about. Personality changes-- You used to just hang out in jeans and a tee, if you didn't have to go anywhere. Now... you're all GQed up."

"... I guess it is a change then." Jace admitted, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, silly. But since you're all dressed up, how about we go out for dinner, instead of hiding here."

"You mean you're gonna trust me to behave?" Jace laughed, as she playfully swatted him."Or are ya counting on me being too weak to fight you?"

"Little of both. Let me grab my purse, and we'll go." Danielle smiled, though she looked a little tired to Jace's eyes.

Jace rose and headed to the door, noticing how slowly everything seemed to respond. Reflexes felt dulled. The feeling of cloth against his skin was still irritating at times, but... he didn't mind that so much.

Stepping out into the fading daylight, Jace paused to look at the street. A car parked across the street caught his eye, and he pretended not to stare as he watched it.

Dark car. So new it caught the last of the sunset, and sparkled. And the driver was wearing what looked like a suit and tie.

Great. It looked like the mystery agency was still keeping an eye on him.

Danielle poked him in the shoulder.

"You ready to venture out into the big world, young man?" She teased. "C'mon. This way to the car."

Keeping a wary eye on the dark car, Jace followed.

Answers, he realized, might be a little dangerous. And if he were to find them, the agents would most likely close in-- and who knows what would happen then.

He had to get away.

Jace had to get to Mission City. The answers he was looking for had to be there.


	5. Circumvention

**Circumvention**

The car, or one exactly like it was outside the next morning when Danielle went to work.

Jace pulled his baseball cap down, peering at the watcher through mirrored sunglasses he'd found among the things in his room. The glasses gave him a little more cover-- he felt a little freer to keep an eye on the vehicle baking in the hot Nevada sun.

Would they follow him, Jace wondered absently as he stepped carefully onto the sidewalk, or would they try to make it less obvious that they were tracking him this time?

Downtown was not far away, however the air was hot. It took a little more effort than he'd expected to get two blocks. Jace frowned as he paused.

Too slow. He'd never loose them this way.

Taking off his glasses, he took a moment to wipe at his face, as though he were absolutely exhausted-- and used the mirrored surface to take note that the suit in the car had started it, and moved down a side street closer to where he was 'catching his breath'.

They were following him again.

Jace slid the glasses back on, and continued, trying to achieve a faster stride.

This would be easier if he had wheels--

One foot caught on a rough patch, and Jace nearly fell. _Wheels._

It would be troublesome to head to Mission City with these guys following him. There'd be trouble for sure-- Mr. Government's attitude had promised that much. And even if he managed to evade them, they'd have a very good idea of where he was headed.

He'd just have to find a way to send them in the wrong direction.

The bus station was just down the next street, according to the maps he'd memorized this morning. Instead, Jace continued walking, and instead slipped into the closest open door.

A wave of cold greeted him– air conditioning that made the store beyond feel as cold as space.

Not quite though, he was hardly in space. Just unused to the temperature outside.

As Jace flattened himself against the wall, just inside the door, he could just make out the form of the vehicle gliding to a halt in the strip-mall's small parking lot. Not good– he'd just let himself get cornered.

And right now, he was feeling a little more of the fragility he'd been stuck with since ...

Since when?

The answers would be found in Mission City, wouldn't they?

"Are you all right, sir?" A voice asked patiently as a hand touched his shoulder. When he turned, the short blond woman was peering at him with an expression of surprise, "Jace? What are you doing here?"

"Uh... hi." Jace fumbled for a moment, trying to figure out how she knew– how would she know–

"Come on in, hon." She had a hand on his elbow already, and was leading Jace towards the back of the store– which he now noticed contained more books than his sister's condo. "You walked from Danni's, didn't you? You need water, and to sit down for a while. If you want, I can call her to give you a ride home."

"Don't call her– " Jace protested. Who was this woman? "I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will," The name tag on the green smock said 'Donna'. "Danni's been keeping me– us up to date."

"She has?" Jace frowned as a clearly marked door was opened to reveal a small room with a table and a few chairs. A fire door and the door leading to the stock room were the only other doors. "Why?"

Donna blushed, but did not look confused, as Jace thought she might. She made sure he'd sat down, and had a bottle of water in front of him before she answered.

"Because we were friends once– and Danni was always hoping that we would get together." She shrugged, "Danni wanted to see you come out of your shell, Jace. The book deal helped, but..."

"Book?" Jace stared at her.

"You mean she didn't tell you yet? Crap. I'm sorry. With all the bad stuff going on around you, I thought she would have..."

"What book deal?" Jace sat up straight, ignoring the bottle for now. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you wrote a book, Jace. You've always had an imagination– and it was the best way for you to express yourself. You used to spend hours in here, just reading. You let me take a peek at it, and... well. We were waiting for news about when it was going to be published, so that the store could make an order. Then we got word from Danni that you were in the hospital."

"She didn't tell me that part." Jace shook his head. Well... imagination certainly explained how he could dream so vividly. "Do you know why I would have been in Mission City?"

"That's where the publishing house is– you went there to meet them to sign a contract."

"And got into a car wreck on the way there." Jace sighed, rubbing his temples. The answers weren't there after all. And maybe the car was his imagination as well.

"Car wreck?" Donna frowned, "Jace... you didn't take your car. Danni drove you."

Jace's head snapped up to stare at Donna. "What did she say happened then?"

"She didn't say much. Just that there'd been an accident. Considering the big snafu that went on down there, none of us thought anything of it. There were lots of accidents going on– I was just glad you didn't end up getting tangled up in whatever it was." The sound of bells attached to the front door interrupted before Jace could ask her anything more. "Sorry. I'm the only one on today. You just rest here. I'll be right back.."

Through the crack of the door as Donna opened and closed it, Jace spotted a familiar face.

Suits. Ties.

Adrenaline surged, as he made for the door, peering through the crack.

There were two of them. Not the same ones from the hospital– one 'agent' turned enough so that Jace could catch a glimpse of his face. He hadn't been at the hospital, but this one was familiar--

Perspective shifted for a moment, and Jace had to hold onto the wall to steady himself.

_The agents were handcuffed together in a chain leading to the light pole. None of them were happy, but they had to hinder their movements, or they would get in the way, and get hurt. Or cause someone else to get hurt– _

The moment passed, and Jace scowled at the men who couldn't see him here. They were talking to Donna, and in a moment, she'd point them back here.

Jace grabbed a chair, and wedged it against the door. That would buy him a few minutes.

The only other way out of here was the fire door. He was going to have to use that to his advantage.

Swiftly, Jace punched the lever to open the door, hearing the immediate sound of an alarm going off. If he was lucky, he realized, as the door swung open, these guys would react just like typical mindless thugs.

Jace started running.


	6. Deterioration

**Deterioration**

Ten minutes of running like crazy, broken up by a pause to make a false trail, and Jace made it to the station.

He'd known from the start that the bus for Mission City wasn't going to be leaving for another few hours. Jace just hadn't planned on losing the shadowy figures in quite that way.

A dash of cold water in the men's room, and a glance in the mirror told him that he looked just as disheveled and out of sorts as he felt. That wouldn't do at all. Jace took a moment to comb down the brown spikes of hair, and take a deep breath.

Three choices.

One. He could hang around the terminal, buy his ticket, and wait for the direct connection to Mission city. And take the chance that one of those goons would figure out that he wasn't heading towards a city bus and the airport.

Two. Jace could just go home and wait for Danielle.

That plan would probably be the sanest– the spooks hadn't been moving in on him until he tried to make a run for it. Jace could go back to the condo, and ask Danni all the questions that were currently bubbling through his mind. _Why had she lied to him?_

If she'd lied to him before, there wasn't much chance of her actually telling him the truth about what had gone on. She'd been there. She hadn't been hurt in any kind of accident, and yet she let him go on thinking...

Three. Jace slicked back his hair, tucked hin his shirt, and headed towards the door.

He could grab whatever bus was leaving now, and find a way from whatever rest stop or station to get to Mission City.

"The bus for San Francisco will be departing shortly. Please line up at gate C. Have your tickets out and ready." A voice called over the din of the crowded room. "Single file, please. If you have luggage..."

Jace stopped listening. San Francisco was in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go– but if there was a stop... He pushed his way to the ticket counter, and got in line.

He tried to remain casual, as he glanced around the crowd, looking for the familiar faces and suits. Jace saw none. He didn't stop looking until he was safely seated in the vehicle.

Jace meant to keep watch until they hit the highway leading out of the city, but between the cool air, and the soothing hum of the bus, he was dozing before they passed the bookstore.

_The road through the golden sands of the desert stretched like a long black oil trail. _

_Even if they hadn't been in such a hurry, he would have accelerated well past the posted speed limits. As it was, he was having to keep himself in check, lest he lose the others. Bad enough to lose one, let alone the rest._

'_No one left behind' was a great philosophy to live by– in theory. In practice, however, he was finding it just a little too hard to keep up with._

_Quietly he swore he'd find a way to help the brother they'd had to leave behind. There would be something he could do after this mission was completed. _

_It wasn't the scout's fault. It was his, for allowing him to get that far separated from the rest of the group. Command had privileges. Even if he wasn't in overall charge, he'd take the blame for this one._

_Dark spots on the dusty horizon caught his attention..._

Jace jumped as he woke, startling the passenger next to him. He gave her a nervous smile as he apologized, ignoring the sudden sense of loss, still pushing away the dream for the more immediate questions.

How long had he slept? And where was he now?

A hard right hand turn forced him to grab the seat in front of him, rather than knock into the seat mate again. Jace was still unsettled as the view of a car dealership sailed past his window, then turned into another street.

_There had been cars in his dream._

Startled, he tried craning his neck to look, only to find they'd passed too far for him to be able to look. In fact, they were turning again, into the yard of the busline's depot. They'd reached a stop of some kind. Jace shook himself as the other passengers disembarked, and followed.

Wherever he was, this was his departure point. For some reason, he didn't think it was San Francisco. In fact, the sign over the door that said 'Dunville' confirmed it. Jace tried to look casual as he cased out the terminal. The sunset rays gave the dingy place a little bit of color. Not a place he'd really want to spend much time.

And the exit to the street wasn't far away.

He meandered through the lobby, trying to ignore the calls over the intercom that named the next stop for the bus he'd just departed as Tranquility, and leaving in fifteen minutes.

Tranquility...He wondered just why that name was familiar. And why he suddenly just wanted to get back on the bus. Jace resisted. It was in the opposite direction from where he needed to go.

A glance over his shoulder showed another passenger entering the terminal from the bus doors.

Black suit. Tie. Sunglasses.

He stopped to speak with the driver.

Jace hastened his step, ducking through the street doors, and into the dimly lit world outside.


	7. Vulnerability

**Vulnerability**

One of the all-too-familiar cars waited just outside the terminal doors.

Inside was a face that Jace recognized from long weeks of patient practice, and frequent viewing. It took only a moment for her to recognize him, and leap out of the car.

What was Danielle doing here?

In one of their cars, no less–

She'd known about the watchers. It had to be. She knew what really happened in Mission City. Danielle was in league with them.

"Jace!" she called, "Jace–"

_Don't freeze, _he told himself, _Keep moving. They'll only lock you up, and keep you there. Who knows what they really want– other than for you not to remember..._

Jace backpedaled into something solid. A hand grabbed his arm solidly.

"Mr. Hunt," The voice behind him said, "You need to come with us."

Surrounded. Caught. Helpless.

_Alone- no one to come and save him from this danger._

"No..." A shiver of something almost like fear touched Jace, and he reacted instinctively.

Twisting around in the solid grip, he shoved his hand at the chin of the agent who'd been asking questions in the station. Jace connected solidly, snapping the man's head backwards.

The grip on his arm loosened enough for him to wrench his arm away. They hadn't expected Jace to resist, had they?

"Jace?" Danni's voice sounded shocked. "Jace, what are you doing?"

"I'm not goin' anywhere with these guys, that's what." Jace told her, giving the man a shove back towards the glass doorway before he could recover. "I don't know what you're doin' with them, but... I don't know if I should trust you either."

"I–" Danielle said something, but it was lost in the crash of a body breaking through glass. It didn't matter anyhow. There really wasn't much left to say–

Another hand touched his shoulder, and Jace shrugged it off.

"Don't." He told Danielle, as he moved away from her, trying to ignore the fear on her face. "Just. Don't."

Jace took off towards a darker alley at a sprint without looking back. Danielle didn't even call to him.

Streets blurred into each other in the dim light.

Jace supposed he should stop at some point– find someplace to hide out. Find some way to get out of this city that didn't involve showing some ID, or using the credit card he'd found in his wallet.

Danielle had been with them. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't trust anyone.

For a moment, Jace wished he'd been able to ask Donna more questions. But what good would that do? The girl only knew what Danni had told her.

The gleam of metal behind a plate glass window caught his attention– a car dealership. Was this the same one that they'd passed on the way into the city? He could find his way to the highway, and maybe follow it–

The small sportscar rotated on a platform slowly to show off its best features from all angles.

_It was one of the best things he'd seen around here– appropriate, and the right mass. He scanned the sleek silver car, committing all the details to memory and started to change–_

Jace caught himself on the window before he could fall.

His hand was small, human. _Too many digits for him._

Another wave of dizziness passed over Jace as the thought crossed his mind, along with the specifications of the silver car that was impossible for him to--

It was red. Not silver. His hand was human, and his own– not mechanical.

_Am I... losing my mind? _Jace wondered.

He ignored the looks from the people inside the showroom. Were there people really there, or was he imagining them? Jace had to keep moving. He had to find the highway. He had to get out of here before they found him again.

The soft purr of a motor nearby pulled him back from the thoughts. Jace had been walking without thinking about it, and now he was in yet another strange place with a car slowing down near him.

A glance told him it wasn't the same kind the spooks had been using. It was white. Old. Beat up.

"Need a ride?" A voice called cheerfully from inside. "Hop in."

The glimmer of headlights, and a shape exiting an alley across the wide street made Jace pause for a moment. They'd found him already.

"Sure–" The hesitation was gone. This was a stranger-- He couldn't trust Danielle. He couldn't trust the spooks. A friendly voice and a beat up car were his only options right now.

The door swung open, and Jace scrambled in, slamming the door swiftly.

"Where you headed?"

"Mission City." Jace told him, "But right now, I'll take anywhere but here."


	8. Lexicon

**Lexicon**

"Mission City, huh?" Jace's inadvertent rescuer asked as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and towards the highway on-ramp that had only been a few yards away. Jace hadn't even noticed it. "Well, I can get you as far as North Edwards. Cap'd have my ass if I went back to the City."

"You've been there?" Jace gave what he hoped was a casual glance at the sideview mirror, and was relieved to see that the dark car hadn't followed.

"Yeah," The driver said shortly, changing lanes. "Big ol' mess. Especially with that spin job the spooks have been putting on it. I'd get run out on a rail if I showed myself there right now. And I'm onna the good guys."

"Joint civilian and military experiment gone wrong," Jace remembered from the articles, "Lots of ... accidents going on that day."

"Experiment my ass." The driver snorted, offering a hand to his passenger. "Rob Epps. Air Force."

"Jace," He kept it brief, and went back to watching the miles fly by. "You're military. Why tell me anything, and why pick me up?"

"Officially we look like the bad guys here. People got hurt. People got killed– and not just in Mission City. You looked like you were about to drop. We got a bad enough rep without adding 'abandoning folks in need' added to it."

"Abandoned..." _He was alone– no one could help him. They wouldn't abandon him._ "I wouldn't say abandoned, so much as misled." Jace sighed, staring straight ahead. _Who wouldn't abandon him? Danielle?_

"Oh?" There was a sidelong suspicious glance.

"I haven't been able to find out any real information on what happened in Mission City. Just the official story, and maybe the occasional vague rumor." It had all been worded so carefully. Witness accounts had been almost coached. Jace's hand tightened on the door handle. "It all seems fake. It's all wrong."

The car slowed almost imperceptibly, and Jace heard a slight ticking noise that reminded him of something. Coils. Engines wearing down. There was something wrong with the car? Rob didn't appear to notice.

"You know," Epps was saying, "That's what I told 'em people would think. It wasn't a good idea. You going to go investigate now, and find out what happened to a friend– or family? Not gonna find much of anything left there. They took all the junk away."

Jace frowned, hearing the engine change pitch. The soft crackle of something...

"How far to the next town or rest stop?"

"I was serious 'bout giving you a ride, man." Rob said, "I'm serious."

"How far?" Jace persisted, "If it's more than a couple of miles–"

"Ten." Epps gestured to the briefly lit sign announcing the next area. "Can't take the company of a soldier anymore?"

"Not that. Your car's about to stop."

"What? No. I just got it checked out before I left." There was a stiff cough from the engine, and the rumble ceased. "What the–"

Epps coasted the car carefully to the side of the nearly deserted highway.

"How the hell did you know?"

"Sounds." Jace shrugged uncomfortably. _How had he known? He didn't know that much about cars..._ "Sounded like something giving out."

"Man... I hope it's just the battery."

"If we were a little closer to the rest area, it'd be easier to get to a phone." Jace rubbed the bridge of his nose.

The engine was still stubbornly refusing to make a sound when the driver turned the key, and pleaded with it to start. Jace shook his head. Trying to get the soft roar out of his ears with no success.

"S'all right." Rob's grin was almost invisible in the dark of the car, "I got a cell. I wanna pop the hood, and see if it's just the battery cables coming loose again. Got a flashlight– Sounds like you know somethin' about cars."

Jace followed the other man's lead, and hopped out to stare at the suddenly ominous white hood. There was smoke slipping out of the cracks.

Epps raised the hood, and jumped back as flames shot out of the engine compartment.

"Shit!"

The smell of burning oil, ozone and wire casing hit Jace hard.

_Burning wires snapped with the remains of energy as he attempted to get up one more time. Missile damage was difficult to shake off– but his friend was more of a mess than he was–_

A wave of nausea grabbed Jace. He managed to stagger away from the vehicle into the low shrubs in the ditch before what remained in his stomach made a second appearance. Epps was saying something, but Jace couldn't make out what it was. His body was too busy sending him into spasms as the cool night breeze blew more of the smoke in his direction.

_The acrid smell invaded his senses, familiar and deadly– there had been many times he'd been around this odor, and it always involved pain and death–_

"Hey–" There was a hand on his shoulder, steadying him before he pitched forward. "You ok there?"

Jace nodded mutely, wiping his face with his other sleeve. This was almost embarrassing. Why had he reacted like this--

"I called for a tow, and to tell my captain I'm gonna be late." The light blinded Jace for a moment as Epps studied him. "Better sit down. You're still not lookin' so good."

Again, Jace could only follow the suggestion, wobbling his way to a place upwind of the smouldering vehicle. The slightest hint of the smell was making the bile rise again. In the dark, he could still hear Epps swearing as he carefully pulled possessions out of the car.

It didn't take long, and soon the big man was sitting next to him again.

"At least there ain't anyone trying to kill us in this desert." Epps flipped his phone open and shut again, "You never said why you were so bent on gettin' to Mission City. Family there?"

"No." Jace shook his head. "I was there. But I don't remember."

"Huh." Epps frowned, "Probably better that way."

"You'd think." Jace watched a set of lights on the highway coming closer. He'd almost be glad to see the dark cars right now. It would at least mean that they'd get away from this dirt, and the smell of burning plastic. "I don't even know who I am, really."

"So Jace isn't your name?" The low light didn't hide the confusion.

"It's what she called me when I woke up." Trust. He had to trust someone, and at the moment, Epps seemed as though he might listen, and not turn him in. "Said she was my sister. And the spooks that were hanging around called me that too. Couldn't find anything on Sector Seven– so I don't even know if they're really government, or–"

"They're supposed to be disbanded, damnit." Epps let out a string of curses. "I'll have to tell Cap when I get back to base."

A set of headlights slowed down as they approached the dead car. As far as Jace could see it was black and white, not just plain black. The driver was not visible from this angle, but something about it made him nervous. _It's a cop car. _He realized as the lights started flashing.

"Great– maybe this guy can get 'em to come out a little faster." Epps stood. "Hey officer!"

The radio inside the car produced a loud burst of static, almost pure noise, and Jace stood quickly. That sound...

Epps had noticed it as well.

"Jace, you might wanna make for the ditch or something. Don't know if this one's noticed you–"

... it made sense. There was a familiar pattern to it. Great chunks of it were missing, but Jace could hear the message. Not only hear, but understand.

"..._subject static located... capture immanent "_

"_commencing..."_

"_permission to interrogate..."_

"What..." Jace felt his eyes widening as he stared at the new vehicle. Two voices. A conversation. A radio. "Epps, that's not a cop, it's..."

"Damnit, Jace, run." Epps was turning, "Don't know what it wants, but I ain't got a big enough gun with me. Let's go, man."

The other man grabbed Jace's arm, and dragged him away from the road, towards the foothills. The engine revved, almost sounding angry as the car turned to pull off of the road and towards them, lights clearly illuminating their path.

Brush. Sand. Rock. And more rock. There wasn't going to be anywhere to hide, but if whoever was in the car was going to get out and pursue on foot–

"Jace!"

"_Leaving the road..." _The voice said, _"Will have to transform in order to pursue–"_

"_Idiot– do not reveal yourself. There are signals converging on your location. Return to–"_

Jace didn't hear the rest, as he was dragged through a few low-lying shrubs, and into some rough cover behind an outcropping.

"What's it doin', man..." Epps sounded nervous as he peered over the rock at the still idling cruiser. "I'm tired of these things. I get off of leave and they come right back at me."

"Didn't you hear it?" Jace rubbed at his sore arm. Twice in one day– probably bruised. "He was ordered to retreat."

"The hell?" Epps spared him a glance, "You nuts, man? It's waiting for something."

"Someone else is coming–" Jace told him, peering over the wall as the cruiser pulled out, and took off down the highway at an insane speed. "It was over the radio– pretty loud."

"All I was hearin' was static."Epps complained, standing up. "How'd you hear it?"

Jace shook his head as the faint rumble of vehicles moving down the highway came closer.

"You don't even know what that was, do you?" Epps shook his head, "If you were in Mission City, you'd have seen 'em, and heard 'em. No way you should forget that so easily. They're what really happened. And there's no way you should be able to understand 'em."


	9. Ambush

**Ambush**

"No way, man." Epps repeated as the breeze started to rustle the scrub brush.

Jace remained where he'd finally collapsed, just waiting for the world to start making sense again.

That hadn't been English coming from the cop car, and Jace knew he wouldn't be able to replicate those sounds if he tried. It was impossible.

"They..." Jace finally picked up on some of the implications of what the other man was saying. "They happened. What do you mean?"

"It's classified." Epps grumbled.

"And there are more out there. Hostile." Jace frowned, staring at the moon– tranquil and cold. "Sector Seven used to exist, and now it's not supposed to. Something happened in Mission city that involved both of them."

Epps was slouching against the boulder, still giving nervous glances at the highway. A truck screamed by, doing at least half the speed that the cop car had taken off at. Jace doubted it would catch up.

"My guess is that they're not even human."

A sharp turn of the other man's head confirmed it.

"That was a language– it had sounds that I couldn't hear– not with human ears, anyhow. And I sincerely doubt that either of us could produce the same tones. It sounded almost... mechanical." Jace raised a hand. Silhouetted by the moon, it was harder to see that it was merely flesh, but the five digits grasping at the reflected light of a distant rock still looked odd to him.

He'd had the hallucination of a mechanical hand with one less finger earlier. Mechanical– and the language that he'd just heard aloud reminded him of something. A dream he'd had...

"How'd you understand it then?"

"I... don't have a clue." Jace admitted, "Or maybe I do. It has to do with Mission City. Something... happened there. Danni lied to me. Spooks just kept watching and waiting for me to step out of line. From what little I've found out about my life before that day, I didn't just lose my memory there. I ... completely transformed into someone else."

"Mission City was a battleground," Epps told him quietly, "for a bunch of giant alien robots. A few of 'em were killed, the ones that wanted to kill us, mostly. A few got away. The good guys are still hangin' out around, tryin' to make sure they don't do nothin' else. Protecting the planet."

"Epps..." Jace's hand dropped, and he turned to face the other man. Classified wasn't passed off that easily.

"You didn't hear any of this from me. Got it?" There was something about the man that was deadly sincere. "They cleaned up Mission City a couple of months ago. All the bodies were dumped, and most of the footage was confiscated. Only things you're gonna find there are lots of holes being patched up, and lots of unhappy people who don't really want to talk about it."

Jace winced, and rubbed his eyes.

No hope of finding anything in Mission City now. A sick sensation crawled from the pit of his stomach again, threatening to swallow him whole. Hopelessness wasn't like him, was it? But right now it was almost overwhelming.

"Maybe... the Sector Seven guys know something. If I try and talk to them– "

"Wouldn't count on it," Epps told him, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder, "Those guys were pretty clueless. If they'd been in charge, big bad would've gotten the cube, and the planet would've been toast. Or at least run by toaster ovens."

The rumble that Jace had heard before had become more of a light roar. Another vehicle was on the highway, and close. He nodded to Epps, and rose.

"They were talking about signals converging on this location." Jace reminded him. "I'm thinking that whoever it is might be friendly."

Epps clambered to his feet, as an emergency vehicle pulled to the side of the road behind his battered car.

An ambulance?

_Safe. At least one of them was safe, and he'd done his job– _

Who was safe? And why was he suddenly feeling so light?

"Yo." Epps called, jogging towards the road from their brief shelter. "I never thought I'd be this glad to see onna you guys again."

"Seargent Epps?" A gruff voice emitted from the ambulance, "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing." Jace watched the man approach the vehicle, and carefully followed. The world didn't feel real. Perhaps he was just exhausted. "Car broke down– and some strange cop car decided to sniff around, givin' off the same vibes as the others."

"Barricade." The voice gave almost a familiar snort. "We've been tracking him all day. We are still trying to determine why he has returned to this area. Ironhide has gone on ahead, but with his speed, I doubt he'll catch up."

"He– Barricade-- wanted to capture and interrogate... Someone." Jace found himself saying. "And then was recalled when someone said there were signals converging."

"I didn't hear none of that." Epps said, "Sounded like that crazy static to me. I guess that's the language, right? Jace, this is one of the good guys. Look, man– I gotta get back to base, 'fore they knock me down as AWOL. And Jace here is heading to Mission City. Any chance of--"

A swarm of lights converged on the two vehicles, and two men before Epps could finish his question. Any responses were drowned out in the sound of slamming doors, and the clattering patter of running feet.

Jace hadn't even heard them coming.

"Mr. Hunt will be coming with us."The voice was very familiar.

Mr. Government himself was walking towards him– and next to him were several figures dressed in the familiar black suits. They were pointing weapons at him. That explained some of the clatter.

"We've been trying to locate him for some time now. If you gentlemen will excuse us..."

"Hold on a sec," Epps stepped in front of Jace, "You guys are Sector Seven, right? You ain't supposed to exist. So what do you want with him?"

"We're merely a government agency, now. Just trying to uphold the law and dealing with things that no one else was trained and capable of dealing with. He assaulted one of our operatives this..." Mr. Government looked at his watch for a moment, and smiled, "Yesterday evening."

"He grabbed me first." Jace protested, "And, you've been following me for longer than–"

"Because we were concerned." The false concern dripped like thick oil. "You were showing signs of mental instability after recovering from your injuries. And Danielle Hunt–"

"Leave Danni out of this." Jace scowled, "Epps... don't worry 'bout me. Just hitch with your friend, and go. I... don't have anything to go to in Mission City anymore. These guys might be my only chance at finding out what happened."

"These guys? Sector Seven didn't know jack, Jace."

The agents weren't even concerned that Epps had stepped into the line of fire. They were at an advantage, Jace realized. If he'd been in charge, there would be someone sneaking around in the dark to keep a bead on himself– the target. It'd be a risky shot, but somehow the words 'collateral damage' didn't seem to be something the spooks would be concerned about.

"Then they should also know who I am." The voice that emitted from the ambulance rumbled. "This man carries no weapons. He does not appear to be a danger."

"Yes..." Mr. Government admitted, looking almost unwilling, "We do know who you are. However, we have the authority to take one Jason Hunt into custody. He's considered unstable and dangerous. Sergeant Epps, if you will stand aside..."

"He has already agreed to go with you," The ambulance growled, "And my scanners have detected the presence of three other humans making an attempt to circle around into the bushes."

Jace stepped away from the man who'd tried to protect him. Briefly he wondered how far and fast he could run before they shot him down.

"I figured they were there." Jace shrugged, trying to look as defenseless as possible. Not that he had to try hard. "Could you at least tell me how you found me so fast? "

"That's classified." Mr. Government shrugged, giving the most insincere apologetic smile that Jace had ever seen. "But the sooner you realize that no matter where you go, we'll be able to find you, the better and less exhausting it will be for you. Now, Mr. Hunt, would you raise your hands, and walk over this way?"

"I'm not sure I can." Jace gave a quick glance at Epps and his friend. "I mean, you want to take me in for breaking away from some guy who bruised the hell out of my arm, and last I checked, there were laws against kidnapping."

"This is a special case, I assure you." There was a gesture, and the door to the closest car opened, allowing Jace to see the man inside holding a device that looked very much like the box that he'd seen in the hospital."But I suppose we can justify it for you, if you really feel it necessary. Epps, this is highly classified."

"Simmons?" Epps muttered, "What's that dink doing here?"

"Hello, Sergeant." The man reluctantly said, and strode determinedly towards Jace. "The readings are still off the charts. Ms. Hunt told us you'd been near one of them, but hadn't touched anything. These readings indicate otherwise. They should have faded in time, but they haven't... why not? You were injured, and hit by electricity. There were no downed power lines in that part of the city– the injuries can be accounted for by falling bricks, and flying debris, but not the latter. You obviously touched something that you shouldn't have– now what was it, Mr. Hunt?"

The peculiar fish-eyed gaze was fixed on him, obviously not expecting a response.

"Been having any flu-like symptoms lately?"

_Direct contact. _

_The blue-white light colored everything, including the small figure next to him. Someone was nearby, and mobile. The face blended familiar and unfamiliar as it gazed at him with an expression of shock and awe. _

_He couldn't do anything. Couldn't tell the other to run away, couldn't ask him to stop staring. He was helpless, and in agony– there was a cold sensation that promised an end to the pain, however. Icy knives that burst through his frame, and stabbed at his heart. _

_Death wasn't far away. _

_He wasn't afraid._

_One of the small creature's hands reached out towards the wound that had split his chest open, exposing his heart to the alien light..._

The memory of pain stayed with himthis time, producing echoes in his physical form.

"No... don't... "Jace staggered, unable to speak clearly. Think clearly. He was human. He wasn't dying. "Don't touch..."

It felt as though he were though.

"Jace?" he heard Epps call from a distance, "What's the matter, man–"

"He has gone into a condition that you call 'shock'." The rumbling voice said. The voice was followed by a familiar noise. One that spoke volumes about metal parts moving around and rearranging themselves to change the ordinary ambulance into a bipedal shape. "Physically, he–"

Jace barely caught a glimpse of the ambulance turned robot before things started to swim.

"Ratchet..." he choked, "Help..."

And then the world went dark.


	10. Perception

**Perception**

_He was the only one who could do it._

_Medics, even front line combat medics, were not expendable. _

_A heavy weapons specialist would be needed on the ground, since two– no three of the enemy fighters were still active._

_And the scout was injured– badly. There was no way that he'd be able to stand, let alone fight._

_There was only one other being who could counter this monster, however he had been delayed, protecting the people on the highway._

_That left him. He was fast. He'd broken through combat lines before, taken down opponents almost twice his size before they even realized he was on his way. _

_Besides. It was his job to cover for the others– you didn't get to be a lieutenant without some risk, some responsibility. __If he didn't do it, if he didn't take the focus of the rampage away from the streets, innocents would get hurt– and possibly die. _

_And the leader's words had emphasized it, burning the thought into his memory. _

"_We don't harm humans."_

Babbling.

A foreign language being spoken. Voices rose and fell in the slow easy cadence that didn't quite match the fevered pitch. He knew the words, they were just out of reach, like the stars overhead.

Cold. As cold as the void between those stars–

"_...complication..."_ The familiar voice was saying at a pace too fast for a human brain to process. Volumes unheard as the deafness of human ears failed him yet again._ "..Break off pursuit and get your static back here."_

The rest was lost, as was any response.

"Goddamnit, what the hell did you do to the kid?" The words were rising in volume. Strong indignation and outrage shining through. Epps, he identified after a moment. "You drug him, Simmons?"

"Nothing! I swear!" The slippery voice answered nervously from somewhere below. Simmons?

"Your guys shoot him?"

"There were no shots fired, sergeant" The same familiar voice spoke in the slow language, "It was a reaction, but to something else. I am not certain what, as yet."

"Stay calm, stand down." The voice came from further away. Hateful placating tones. "He was only released from the hospital a few days ago. Probably over-exerted being on the run for two days."

"That's not very encouraging," Epps muttered, "Where's Banachek? Isn't he supposed to be in charge of your little monkey-suit parade?"

"The director is occupied elsewhere."

"Does he even know you all are chasing down innocent civilians?"

"He knows that we are supposed to be tying up loose ends, yes."

"And Jace Hunt is one of those loose ends."

"Mr. Hunt is a person of interest. The rest is classified." Simmons spoke. "If you would be so kind as to ask your friend to put him down now, we can be on our way."

"I do have a name," Jace was being held, he realized. There was warm metal against his hand, under his body. Uneven, like a giant hand– _hand? Robot. _"But I do not believe that releasing Jace into your custody would be wise."

"And I've had enough of this classified bull." Epps snapped, "I fought for my country– my world, and against some pretty nasty things. But I didn't do that so you dimwits could randomly kidnap people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either you start talkin', or I start makin' noise."

The sound of rustling reached Jace. He wanted to tell Epps that these guys would probably not have any problem silencing someone who got in their way. Warn him that it wasn't worth it– he wasn't worth–

But he couldn't. He was still frozen, half blind, deafened.

"The energy readings, " rumbled the voice of the one holding him, "They are intriguing, are they not? Tests planned, experiments– all awaiting the subject. Just as there were for one of my kind."

_They didn't want him to remember. They'd lock him up, and he'd never be able to get free, just like..._

Guilty silence.

"He's just a kid who's trying to figure out who he is," Disgust dripped from Epps' voice. "And all you idiots can think of is playing your sick games in the name of science instead of helping him."

"And who is he, Mr. Epps?" Mr. Government asked with more sincerity than Jace had heard from him before, "Just some kid you picked up beside the road, no questions asked?"

"He's someone who survived." Epps growled, "Which is more'n I can say for a lot of people."

"True. And that survival is something of a miracle." the agent conceded. "However, the matter of legality was questioned. Legally– he should be coming with us."

"Self defense is understandable, and hardly a reason for arrest."

"You misunderstand. Medically speaking, Jason Hunt has a form of amnesia, brought on by major trauma. In order for him to be released, his sister had to assume guardianship. Once he fled, she was forced to admit that she could not provide adequate care. Danielle Hunt asked us to step in."

Danielle... had asked? Jace tried to stir, to deny it. She wouldn't– would she?

"Legally speaking, you are in violation, by trying to maintain custody of a ward of the state. Hasn't there been enough trouble between us, without this, Mr... hmm... Ratchet?"

"Yes." Sighed Ratchet, "However, I am still troubled. The energy readings that you have detected are the reason why I am here. We believed Barricade had homed in on the energy of a refugee, however the vehicle that was here is not one of ours. The only sentient creatures in this area are these two men. I would like to know for myself why a Decepticon would be interested in a human."

"Because he's givin' off the energy signature of one of you." Epps said suddenly, "That's what he was homing in on. He thought he was gonna catch one of you offguard, and alone."

"That would make sense." Ratchet was nodding. Jace found that he could move enough to study the face above. Familiar. _Too familiar_. The cool alien gaze fell upon him. "However, the question still remains. Why do you hold an energy signature that mimics ours?"


	11. Interdiction

**Interdiction**

"That's a very good question," Simmons was babbling, "That's why we wanted him to come with us. You know. To find out."

Jace frowned, moving around in the large hand so that he could see the situation on the ground. Two of the snipers were just visible beyond the halo of light, rifles now trained on Epps, who was holding Simmons by the front of his neatly starched shirt.

Four of the other agents were now aiming directly at Ratchet, while the other was leaning over to mutter something to Mr. Government as he calmly watched the whole show.

Not a good situation. Epps was in danger because of him.

In the distance, a familiar rumble was audible just over the natural sounds of the desert, and the click of weapons being taken off safety. Ironhide was on his way. Jace wasn't entirely sure how he knew it, but he did. Just like he knew that he was safe within Ratchet's grasp.

_He was an officer. Risks came with the job– and the reputation of being a line-breaker. That's one of the reasons why he was first among the chosen of volunteers for this mission. He had a lot of skills that would be useful, even if they didn't meet any Decepticons. He double checked his weapons, and set them aside. The signal would come soon, and then he would know if he were needed as a fighter or a scholar. Patience was all he needed._

Jace froze for a moment as the memory floated across his mind.

_Decepticons?_

_Sector Seven?_

The touch of what he had mistaken for fear that had gripped him in the bus station returned. It was alertness to possibilities and scenarios. It was awareness of the smell, the sound, the sight of the enemy. It was anticipation.

Jace felt the smile cross his face. It was also familiar, just as the language that these robots spoke among themselves had been. He may not have all his senses (_he didn't?), _and he might not be as fast– but he could still do something.

Crouching in Ratchet's hand, he noted the soldier, and the gunmen who were no longer watching him. They had almost dismissed him as insignificant in the light of what they faced, and were about to face.

The roar of a tricked out engine, and the squeal of breaks preceded the sound of another transformation, as the large black vehicle arrived. The snipers' rifles dipped ever so slightly as the others turned their attention away from Epps and Ratchet to see the new arrival.

"Get Epps clear." Jace said quietly enough for the mechanism holding him to hear, then, without giving the other a chance to object, jumped off the hand.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Jace thought, as he landed. After all, he was still recovering... But the adrenaline rush that had started with the half memory couldn't be denied. He needed to do this. Even if he got hurt– and from how Simmons had been talking, they certainly wanted him alive– Epps wasn't a part of it until Jace had gotten him involved.

Reactions were a little slower than anticipated, and one of the snipers recovered before he could get to them.

A shot whizzed past Jace's shoulder, leaving a stinging trail.

The barrel was still hot when he grabbed it, and pulled, twisting it away from its owner. And then used the butt to knock the second sniper– who was far too close to the first– unconscious. The first tried to fight back for a moment, but was subdued by a quick jab to the solar plexus.

More shouts from behind him, and Jace found himself dodging, and weaving to get close enough to hit the other four agents, who were suddenly panicking.

Jace didn't blame them. The grim smile had fixed itself to his face, and he was still moving. Lungs burning. Muscles aching. Recent wound afire.

_He couldn't stop now, though. These people... these humans... they would lock him away, and perform experiments on him– while he screamed in pain, just like–_

The last gun-toting agent was on the ground in front of him, just as insensible as the rest.

Jace wobbled, taking deep gasping breaths, as he stared at the unconscious man.

He ached. Strained muscles, cuts, bruises. The rush was burning away into vapor.

"_We must not kill humans. They are innocent. This war is ours."_

"They're not so innocent," Jace managed to tell the voice in his head, "Are they?"

"Jace?" Epps' voice came from behind. He turned to see that Ratchet had indeed separated the soldier from the government agents.

"I cannot say that for certain." Ratchet said quietly, "Who are you?"

"I... don't think I'm Jason Hunt."


	12. Casualty

**Casualty**

The rough pattern of the scars along his left palm stood out in the combination of moonlight and artificial glare from the two beings behind him. Jace Hunt had gotten those scars in Mission City. They'd barely had time to heal.

There were low murmurs between the large figure that had just arrived, and the one that had seen the whole thing. Ironhide and Ratchet.

If he'd tried, Jace could have listened in, figured out what they were talking about. However, right now, he was using everything just to remain upright. Adrenaline had worn away, leaving him shaking.

He closed the scarred hand into a fist to stop the unsteady twitching.

"Who else would you be?" Epps was approaching with caution. Jace didn't blame him– he probably should be wary. "You steady, man? That arm's gotta hurt."

"Fine." Jace shook his head, trying to keep the fake casual look as he turned to face the other man. "I just know... since I woke up, I haven't felt like I really belonged in my own body. This body."

"You got hurt..." Epps said slowly, "Sometimes it takes a while to get back on your feet. And electrocution– that's some heavy stuff."

"I thought the dreams were just symptoms of an overactive imagination– something that Jason Hunt certainly had as a writer. Lots of space ships, alien languages, strange new worlds." He sighed, feeling gravity start to tug mercilessly. He could just lie down now. "The thing is... right now– I'm thinking in that language."

"Huh?" The big man's face held a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?

There was silence from the tallest figures. They had broken off their rapid conversation to listen to him.

"Didn't really realize it until a few minutes ago. That's why I can understand it."

"Most curious." Ratchet murmured in English. "Would you permit me to scan you?"

"Since when have you started asking permission?" Ironhide grumbled.

"I thought you had already." Jace tilted his head up to speak to the taller robot. "You detected an energy signature. The same one that these guys did."

"Cursory scan, " explained Ratchet, "Detection of energy signatures and life signs is a peripheral scan. This would be more in depth, and perhaps provide a few more answers."

"Is here really appropriate for such a thing, Ratchet?" Ironhide asked with a scowl. One cannoned hand gestured towards the bodies strewn along the side of the road. "Someone will most likely come looking for them at any time, and I doubt they will be in a forgiving mood. Not to mention Barricade may have re-enforcements to call upon."

"And I need to get in contact with my base. Captain Lennox might have a clue what to do to get these guys off your case." Epps said, "At the least, he might be able to get in contact with someone who can."

A snort from the ground next to the car made Jace turn his head too fast, and almost fell over. He'd missed Simmons in the whirl of violence.

"Your captain won't be able to do anything." Simmons said, leaning back against the side of the vehicle. "Not this time. You see, Mr. Hunt– or should I say-- "

"Enough." The gruff voice came from behind and above. "We have questions for you as well, Agent Simmons. Would you prefer to answer them now, or with Mr. Banachek?"

"I can't go with you," Simmons shrugged, picking himself up with a shake. "I'm not authorized to– but I may as well answer them now. If I can. It's not like we could keep this a secret from you forever. Actually–" The slightly wild look returned for a moment, "Banachek is trying to hammer the idea that we should be talking to you about this case to some higher ups who're still stuck in the old ways of doing things."

"Why do you pursue this young man then?" Jace listened closely, trying to divide his attention between standing, and learning. His legs were still a little shaky.

"Before Mission City, Jason Hunt was an ordinary average citizen. After– well, you just saw what he did to our guys." Simmons gestured to the bodies strewn along the side of the road, as though delivering a lecture. "Danielle Hunt's eyewitness account left a lot more questions than answers, especially when it came to her brother. Of all the casualties, yours, Mr. Hunt, were the only ones that could not be backed up by physical evidence."

Jace frowned. Danni had lied to everyone then.

"Ms. Hunt said it was a crash and a powerline. However, her vehicle wasn't involved. The only things we found in the area where she claimed it happened were residue from some kind of machine, the rads that were a hallmark of the passage of one of the NBEs– your folks," Simmons tossed at Ratchet and Ironhide. "And some sort of shield- type weapon that belonged to one of your people."

_His weapon's grip slipped from his hand, as he was slung around far above the street. Relays had already started their inevitable shutdown to conserve power to vital areas. He couldn't spare the thought of worrying who it might hit when it landed– the agony of systems that had been torn apart was almost unbearable_. _He'd been too slow, too weak to be effective against this creature._

_The growl of an engine in the distance told him that he'd done his job. It was almost over._

_With a snarl of rage, the monster threw him__in vaguely the same direction as his shield_–

"Jace!" His head throbbed, heart feeling as though it were about to leap out of his chest and beat him to death. "Damn, I didn't think the shoulder wound was that bad."

"We have studies about prolonged contact with NBEs. Most of the techs who worked with NBE-1 were monitored for exposure and radiation contact." Simmons was still talking, even though it seemed like no one was listening, "Nothing like this had ever been found."

"His heart rate nearly doubled. Nervous system is showing similar signs of severe shock to the last incident." Warm, soft hands were supporting him, keeping him from hitting the ground again. Not metal. Where was Ratchet? And Ironhide– "Sergeant Epps, can you get him inside? We need to leave."

"We wanted to confirm that there was something to talk about before–" Jace heard Simmons say, through the spreading waves of dizziness.

"Before you offered us an 'olive branch', that is the expression you are looking for, I believe." Ironhide said, over the sound of a transformation. "If what you were implying is what I think you are–"

"Mistakes were made." Simmons sounded desperate, "No one wanted to give you a false hope, and destroy two lives in the process."

"I believe you." Jace heard Ratchet say quietly, as the sound of doors slamming ushered in a calm silence that was only disturbed by the soft hum of machinery.


	13. Abyss

**Abyss**

Darkness.

Heavy– thick. Full of empty promises of pain and ecstacy. Full of the knowledge that he desired, and yet feared.

Light. Patterns.

His eyes were open. The light was dancing around him in a multicolored pattern that he almost recognized. He'd seen it before, hadn't he?

_Many times_, the answer surfaced within moments. He was safe– or relatively so while the light held him. Once the it had finished, everything would be all right. Pain would be gone. The world would be upside right once more.

Sound.

He was awake. The soft hum of a machine soothed him, while the rise and fall of voices punctuated the intensity of the hum.

Patterns.

Had he forgotten how to understand the language again? How to speak it? Was he alone again in his own mind, forced to listen to things he couldn't possibly understand?

He couldn't bear that loneliness again.

The hunger for contact, the longing to know he wasn't abandoned in this abyss between who he once was and who he had become– that uncertainty would break him more certainly than the realization that he was blinded, deafened, and unable to move as nimbly as he had in days gone by.

"... stress fracture is healing, as are the muscular tears. It is his mental state that I worry about." The voice was nearby, but muffled by the light.

"And it is your mind that I worry about, old friend. You should be resting."

"I'm fine, Optimus." Ratchet's voice was soft, but still could be heard above the light. "I only need a little more time."

"Out of all of us, you took his death most personally. I have seen it eating at you. His sacrifice prevented a great many deaths, but sometimes you cannot save them all."

"I understand that I can't." Ratchet replied, sounding very weary, as though he'd already argued this before. "However, if there's even the slightest hope–"

"At what cost? You said yourself that there is a more than likely possibility that this is just the remnants of memory. A ghost in the system."

"That..." Ratchet sighed, "Remains to be seen. Humans do not have the technology to find this sort of change."

"Do we?"

There was a long silence, broken only by the fading hum of the scanner.

"Ratchet. Do not destroy yourself. You should rest soon." The last sounded more like an order than a suggestion. "Simmons is bringing the woman here tomorrow. Perhaps she will be able to answer a few questions."

The woman?

"Considering that she probably witnessed something, I should think so." There were a few sounds that he couldn't quite hear, couldn't quite understand. "See the pattern of scarring on the hand? It's familiar, but nothing like anything I've seen in an organic creature before now."

"Familiar?" The voice started to fade into the distance again, as his eyes closed. "Can you explain..."

The world fell into the quiet darkness once more.


	14. Composure

**Composure**

Light stole in, before he realized he'd even awakened, playfully making patterns on the ceiling above where he was laying. A window. Trees dancing in the soft breeze that danced through an open doorway somewhere, and tickled against the bare skin of his cheek.

He felt better than he had since... he couldn't remember when. He'd slept soundly, safely.

And there hadn't been any dreams.

Slowly, carefully, Jace sat up.

Muscles ached, and protested the movement– but nothing gave way, or screamed at him to stop. He swung his legs over the side of the large... table that he'd been sleeping on.

Where was he, anyway?

A warehouse of some kind, perhaps, the vaulting ceilings gave plenty of headroom for anyone who might be over thirty feet high. There was, however, a lot of large-scaled equipment that he could only guess the functions of.

Or maybe he did know some of them The names were floating through his mind on currents that Jace did not quite dare to swim in right now.

Beyond the last bank of perimeter sensor controls, was a huge garage door– open. That was the source of the breeze, most likely. And next to it was parked a sturdy ambulance, facing the surreally normal landscape outside.

The lights at the back of the SUV were dim, but there, as though the vehicle was just resting, and waiting for something. Sleeping...

Jace remembered.

The dark of the desert night; the police car; the spooks surrounding them...

Fighting.

Jace touched his shoulder, and found a bandage neatly covering the graze that he remembered. The spooks had finally started talking, telling him something other than 'we can't tell you.'

"_...some sort of shield- type weapon that belonged to one of your people."_

A weapon.

His right hand curled into the shape of a half-remembered grip. There was a weight. A specific feel. After all, he'd been the one to design...

_His weapon._

Jace groaned as the dizziness of the untouchable current threatened to sweep him up and drown him once again.

"Are you... okay?"

The voice was light, and distinctly feminine. Not Ratchet, or Ironhide. Or Epps–

Jace rubbed his eyes, and looked around for the source, finding it– her next to the open doorway.

Young. Dark hair. Slender figure.

"Yeah... just–" Jace told her, "Just... I'm not sure. Probably overdid it last night."

"Last night?" The girl looked soberly amused. "You've been out for two days. Ratchet said you should wake up today."

_The ambulance. Ratchet. _

"_...if there's even the slightest hope..."_

"Where am I? Where's Epps?" Jace gave a quick glance at the resting vehicle. Ratchet. And he'd overworked himself yet again. Nothing would wake him until he could get a few more hours of defrag time–

Jace managed not to flinch, as the memory surfaced for a moment. No dizziness. No threat to pull him under again. But he _knew_ that the information was right. He was familiar with the robot that transformed from the ambulance. How?

"You are just outside of Tranquility." The young woman told him. "Sergeant Epps has gone back to his base, and is telling Captain Lennox all about whatever adventures the two of you had. The others went to pick up some visitors. They asked me to babysit you and Ratchet."

"Babysit?" Jace frowned. "Look, I'm not some kid–"

"Whatever. I'm not the one who just spent two days flat on my back." The girl shrugged halfheartedly, and jerked her head towards a pile of cloth Jace had missed in his survey of the room. "There's a bathroom at the other corner, if you want to get cleaned up before they get here."

Jace glanced down at the tattered and dirty shirt that he was still wearing. Had been wearing for four days. He felt filthy.

This would not work.

He rubbed the side of his face with a hand, and tried not to look at the girl. He'd almost forgotten, for a moment, how rough he looked right now. Jace gave her an indistinct grunt, and headed for the indicated clothing.

"I'm Mikaela, by the way." She told him as he moved carefully towards the open door that he could now see at the other side of the building. "I don't know how you got tangled up with these guys, or why, but..."

"Call me Jace." he paused for a moment, and turned to study the obviously curious young woman. She wanted to ask him why he was there, Jace could see, but was refraining. "I... was looking for answers to what happened to me, and found them. And I know that if anyone can tell me what happened in Mission City, they can."

Jace ignored the startled look on Mikaela's face, and closed the door quietly behind him.

There would be time to ask questions later. Right now, all he wanted was to be clean.


	15. Memento Mori

**Memento Mori**

Being clean helped.

As the water washed away the grime of the past few days, he could feel a heaviness that he hadn't realized was there lifting away as well. Jace could feel his mood lightening with each drop glistening, and taking away the dirt.

Things were far from settled, but at least they were moving in the right direction. For the first time since he'd awakened in the hospital, he felt as though he was in control of something. His future.

The clothing that had been given to him was clearly meant for someone a little larger than his slender frame. Somehow the idea that he was a bit on the small side didn't bother Jace half as much as he'd thought it would. The distinct lack of what Danni had termed 'GQ' style bothered him more than the size.

It was clean, however, and not torn in a dozen different places.

As he stepped out of the small room, Jace felt almost like a new person.

Calm.

Collected.

Composed.

Mikaela was waiting for him near the door.

Sunshine and cool breezes called from just beyond the portal, and Jace didn't bother resisting. He stepped out into the late afternoon warmth, and sighed. It was almost heavenly.

"You survived Mission City," Mikaela spoke before he could ask her why she'd looked so surprised earlier. "I didn't realize how many people were really there."

"Lots still living there, I'm told" Jace shrugged, "You were there too?"

"Right in the middle of it, actually," He'd almost expected her to be just another bystander; and yet somehow it didn't surprise Jace. Mikaela didn't really seem like the kind to sit around and just watch a disaster without doing something to help.

"So, it was giant alien robots," Jace said softly. The serene landscape seemed so distant from the threat of violence and the smoke of destruction. "Their last battleground was in the middle of a populated city."

"It probably wasn't the best idea in the world, but it was a decision made by a human. Not one of them. We brought the battle to the city." Mikaela had lost whatever patient smile she'd been trying to keep on her face, "People died before Mission City because of them. People got hurt. It wasn't... an easy decision. And now the government has made sure that most of us don't know that they even exist."

"How did you get involved in all of this?" Jace wanted to see the smile again. It was a whole lot nicer than the serious expression. "You seem kinda young..."

"My boyfriend bought a car. Turned out to be one of those giant alien robots." The smile returned briefly, "Then we got caught up in that million year old war. Couldn't just let the bad guys win, you know."

_The city was devastated._

_Everyone in it, forced to either switch sides and become conquered slaves, or die._

_Most had chosen death._

_Was this what the future held for all those who opposed this mighty army?_

_He couldn't claim to know the future, but by all that lived, he would not let it be an easy victory for Megatron–_

"Megatron was destroyed." Mikaela told him through the sudden rush of images and sounds. Her hand was on his arm, as though he'd just stumbled.

"Megatron?" Jace almost feared the answer.

"You said his name a moment ago. He was the leader of the Decepticons. Kept prisoner by the humans in Sector Seven for about a hundred years–" Mikaela frowned as she peered at his face a little closer, "You know, maybe you should still be resting. Your face just turned–"

"I'm fine." Jace shugged off the hand, "I just– I don't remember what happened in Mission City or why I'd know the name of Megatron–"

"_You want a piece of me, Megatron?" he yelled defiantly, voice rasping and hoarse from the volume he was forced to use. _

_The others were still too close, and Optimus Prime still too far away. He himself was caught, however. He could hope that one of his shots would loosen the grip on his legs, but it was against the odds right now._

_And he'd seen what usually happened to those who got this close to Megatron. He'd never expected that he'd be one of them. The moment he'd fallen in the street. The moment the dreaded shadow had touched him, he'd known._

_He was as good as dead._

_Claws flipped him into the air and talons snagged him instantly, biting through his legs and back._

"_No." The horrible voice said distinctly. "I want two."_

"Jace?" The feminine voice was calling a name. It wasn't his, was it? "Jace– Ratchet, you

gotta wake up. Something's wrong with–"

"I–" He found himself kneeling on the rough dirt outside the door. Mikaela had a grip on his shoulder, preventing him from pitching forward. "Don't wake Ratchet, he's probably been awake for far longer than he should have been."

"Jace–" She tried to keep him from standing, but he'd stand on his own– or someone else's– two legs. "What the hell?"

"The Allspark– where is it?" The memories that were trickling through were alien to the environment, to his body, but familiar. "That's why Barricade was looking–"

"The cube was destroyed." Mikaela's expression was unreadable, at least by him, "How do you know about it?"

"Destroyed..." the man known as Jace breathed, "Then Optimus..."

_Failed. As he had failed. The scout was nowhere to be seen, nor was the leader he'd so desperately tried to..._

He'd failed.

He knew who he was, and it wasn't... possible...

"Jace?" Mikaela was still at his side, and caught him before he could fall yet again. The world was spinning, and showed no signs of slowing down.

"I was afraid this would happen." The rumbling voice from behind them echoed in the warehouse along with the sound of transforming metal. "His blood pressure is dropping again, Mikaela. Please allow me to –"

He never heard the rest of the sentence.


	16. Exigency

**Exigency**

"_If all else fails, I will unite it with the spark in my chest."_

Flashes of a familiar face.

"_That's suicide! The cube is raw power, it could destroy you both!"_

No, two faces. Or was it three?

"_A necessary sacrifice to bring peace to this planet. We cannot let the humans pay for our mistakes. It has been an honor serving with you all._"

He was comfortable with being one of the small among giants. It had always been like this. The largest of his friends was also the most noble, humblest, and most willing to die for an ideal, for another being.

_Had Optimus really gone through with it?_

Or was this just another one of the hallucinations that had been plaguing him– would plague him forever? He'd heard the familiar voice a short time ago, hadn't he? Part dream, part memory, perhaps. He didn't know.

If the Allspark of the dream was destroyed, that meant that things had gone very badly indeed, and his leader had been forced to use the last resort even with Megatron's demise...

But how could Jace be... one of them, when he was so obviously frail, obviously **human**.

Was this a sign of madness that Danni had wanted to protect him from, that the government agents had been trying to help him avoid?

The scattered memories still insisted that whoever– whatever he was, it certainly wasn't a mere organic creature called Jason Hunt. They still refused to give up his name, however. They still refused to give up the moments between that life, and this one.

But if Optimus were alive, if the scout was alive... wouldn't Ratchet or Ironhide have mentioned them, even if they didn't know who he was?

Yes.

The dimness of overwhelming memories faded with the dizziness, and Jace found himself in Mikaela's arms, as she kept him from falling to the ground yet again. The strange comforting softness of human arms curling around him, a strength that, in his frail human shell, he was lacking.

He was so tired of that.

Not because he kept missing large chunks of time– and because the nightmares taunted him during these moments, but because it was embarrassing to have to rely on the strength of creatures that a part of his mind thought of as weak. Barely able to defend themselves, let alone–

He was one of them, Jace reminded himself with a dry bite of sarcasm, Possessing the same physical frailties, and –

"What's wrong, Ratchet? Why did he just pass out like that?" Mikaela's tones were low, but clearly audible over the sound of the medic's scan.

"I believe your kind have a name for this. When the mind cannot escape some past trauma, it expresses itself in physical manifestations–"

"Post traumatic stress disorder?" Mikaela interrupted, "Then he does remember what happened in Mission City. Why'd he say he didn't?"

"Perhaps he doesn't consciously remember," Ratchet answered, "This happened in the desert as well."

"Jus'... flashes." Jace managed to speak, trying to find his legs and disengage from the woman. He was awkward in this body. So very cumbersome. "Bits and pieces of things that don't make sense, if I'm... Jason Hunt."

"Jace?" Mikaela let him move away, but kept a wary hand on his arm. "Are you–"

"I'm ok." Jace told her, and took the half step to look up at Ratchet. The robot was on one knee as he calmly disengaged his scanner and watched the two organic creatures in his care. He looked oddly tired. For a robot.

Enormous, and yet, Jace was nowhere as intimidated by the size as he'd expected. One hand could crush him easily, and yet he knew the medic wouldn't do any such thing.

"You know."

Clumsy. The language was inadequate to express all that he wanted to know, all he _needed_ to know in one single sentence– but the two words he had chosen seemed to be the correct ones.

Ratchet nodded.

"Please," Jace sighed. "Could you tell me what happened, and who I really am?"

"I cannot tell you precisely what happened." Ratchet told him. "We are waiting for someone who may be able to enlighten us to arrive. There is a distinct possibility that you are–"

"Jason Hunt." The familiar voice called loudly from just outside the door. None of them had heard the vehicle arrive– Ratchet's scanners had apparently been fixed on him, rather than any possible external threat. "If you would be so kind as to step away from the girl with your hands in the air, we can avoid the use of force."

"Who are you?" Mikaela stepped defiantly between Jace and the three men who were training significant firepower at the trio.

'Mr. Government'. Simmons was nowhere to be seen.

The sharp click of a safety being released echoed in Jace's ears. They were serious.

"What is the meaning of this? We were promised–"

"We don't want to have to use these against you... Ratchet, is it?" Mr. Government was smiling in that snake-like way. "But you are harboring a fugitive, who assaulted several government agents, and is wanted on federal murder charges."

"Murder?" Mikaela glanced back at Jace, "Assault? But he can't even–"

"I didn't kill anyone–" Jace frowned, eying the weapons that were currently aimed in their direction. Heavy weaponry– artillery. The rounds looked like...

"I wouldn't try any stunts like the one you pulled out on the highway, friend. These weapons can hurt both you, and your metal buddy there." The government agent pulled off his sunglasses, and gestured towards Jace. "Now. You have a choice. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The hard way might get your friends killed."

Mikaela didn't move. Ratchet seemed to glower, almost protectively.

"The others will be here shortly. We will not let him–"

_Mikaela was dirty, clothing torn. Bruises forming. A missile going off that closely could have killed her– she was lucky..._

_Ratchet was hurt. The shots had grazed him, but he was still in pain. He had to find a way to cover for the medic, before someone figured that out–_

"Your friends were delayed. Be reasonable, now."

Jace shook himself. No. The images may or may not have been real, but he couldn't let these two get hurt. Not for him– not when there were so many questions.

"Stand down." Jace said shortly, not really thinking about the words. Mr. Government didn't look surprised at the tone. "If I go with you, you'll leave them alone."

"You have my word." The man nodded, carefully replacing the sunglasses.

Jace set a hand on Mikaela's shoulder, and gently pushed her out of the way.

"It's all right. You guys don't need to get caught up in my mess any more. Don't want anyone gettin' hurt because of me." He stepped away from the newfound friends, and towards the men in black. "C'mon. Let's get this show on the road."

Mr. Government himself put the handcuffs on Jace, and led him towards the waiting car.

Just before the door slammed shut, Jace thought he heard Ratchet's voice saying something. He could only make out one word. And that one syllable sent a tremor through his entire body.

"Jazz–"

The engine started, and they pulled away from the sanctuary.


	17. Identification

**Identification**

"I hope you're comfortable, Mr. Hunt." Mr. Government said from the driver's seat. "We have quite a drive ahead of us."

"Where are you taking me?" Jace tried to keep his voice level, even as his heart was racing. The cuffs meant they'd learned from the last time. There would be no escaping for him. "And I didn't kill anyone–"

"Really?"

_One of the small creature's hands reached out towards the wound that had split his chest open, exposing his heart to the alien light. If the fragile creature were to come in contact with the energies within his body, it– no, not it– he would most likely die._

_The human reached for him, despite the warning– determined–_

"_You don't have to be alone."_

"Mr. Hunt?" Mr. Government was waving a hand in front of his face. "You with us still?"

"I held back..." Jace found his voice again, though he couldn't manage to keep all the unsteadiness out. "None of your agents were seriously injured. So, enlighten me. Who did I kill?"

"Now that's the interesting part. You see, for all intents and purposes, Jason Hunt died in Mission City seven weeks ago."

"Funny," Jace tried to laugh, "I don't feel dead."

"Then can you tell me– without a single doubt– that you are Jason Hunt?"

A hand went up before Jace could form a retort. Of course they would use this tactic. They'd heard his uncertainty in the night. Maybe Simmons had told them, despite the generous words.

"Before you answer, do understand, we've had you under surveillance for weeks. The remains of one of the NBEs were hurled to the streets– as filmed by one of our agents on the scene. From the projected trajectory, a significant portion should have landed just outside a certain publishing office in Mission City."

Jace stared at the man.

_The publisher was based in Mission City... You went there to meet them to sign a contract. _Donna's voice echoed in his head.

_Direct contact. You obviously touched something that you shouldn't have– _

"Danielle Hunt showed up at one of the triage centers, half dragging, half carrying you. There were inconsistencies with her story then– as well as the interesting readings on the rad meter. If she hadn't insisted that you were her brother, and nothing had happened, we would have brought you in before, and none of this silly running around business would have had to happen."

_The only things we found in the area where she claimed it happened were residue from some kind of machine, the rads that were a hallmark of the passage of one of the NBEs– your folks._

Danielle had lied. And the memories floating through his head were not...

"What..." Jace willed himself not to shake. Not to let this man know that right now he was touching on something that both drew and repelled him. "What happened to the ... NBE?"

"They really didn't tell you anything, did they." Mr. Government shook his head. "There was one casualty on the 'good' group of giant killer robots. In their terms, it died. I don't know what they do about burials– probably just scrap at that point..."

There had been no compassion in that voice that had pronounced his death. Not it. Him. Something that felt almost like a sob escaped Jace, before he could swallow it. Indignant. None of them would consider another merely 'scrap'– small memories flashed through his mind. Funerals. Memorials. The medic always taking the death of a comrade far too hard.

_No wonder Ratchet had seemed so tired. He was probably still kicking himself._

"Mr. Hunt?" The voice was still matter of fact.

"So... if he died," Jace said, almost steadily, the handcuffs weighed him down. If he was right, he was also guilty. If. Why if? He knew he was now– the small bits and pieces were starting reconcile. He wasn't insane. "What do you want with me? Or do you think..."

"Tell me." The compassionless voice asked, "What is your real name?"

"My real name?" He gave a short burst of laughter. "My name... You wouldn't be able to pronounce it. For that matter, I can't even say it right anymore. Just...call me Jazz."

Ratchet had called him by the name that he'd adopted for this planet, just as Jazz had automatically called the medic by his in the desert. It had been accident that had brought them back together, even for a short time, but a happy one. He only wished he could have stayed there a little longer.

The look of triumph on the slimy government man's face lasted another five seconds.

It vanished when wall of force lifted the car off the road and flipped it into the ditch.

And for a moment, so did everything else.


	18. Scramble

**Scramble**

Light called him back again.

The light that was coming through the windshield was fractured, the glass cracked so badly in some places that it looked like crumpled metal, rather than what it was. In some places it was missing entirely, giving him a tilted view of the highway beyond.

Gravity insisted on pulling him towards the door, pinning his shoulder against the uneven surface. The awkward angle was starting to cut circulation off to his right arm, still cuffed behind his back.

He hadn't been out for long. Bits of glass and dirt were still skittering down the hood, from where the vehicle was still settling in the ditch. Smoke and dust blew along the asphalt surface that they'd just been cruising along.

Something had hit the car.

From the stealthy impact, Jazz had a good idea who it was.

Pulse weapons were common enough. Ones that made very little sound, but had enough impact to push a fully loaded shuttle out of its intended trajectory were rare. Both sides had them, however...

Optimus Prime had forbidden any of them to bring such a thing along to a place where innocents might get caught in the crossfire. Jazz knew that none of his companions would have fired such a weapon on a human vehicle– especially while it was in motion. The impact could kill such frail creatures. Decepticons, however...

A moan from the front seat caught his attention, and Jazz tried to twist around to see who was still alive. If they could move, they could get out. They could get away from this vehicle, before whoever it was came to investigate the wreckage, and–

It hurt.

The scrapes, cuts and bruises he'd been dealing with were nothing. Even the persistent aches and pains leftover from whatever hell Jace Hunt had been through before... whatever had happened hadn't felt quite like this. His head was spinning.

Jazz had been hurt badly before– but not like this. Not from a mere tumble.

The next groan was his.

If the Decepticon who'd shot at them was going to come and investigate, how was he supposed to do _anything_? Jazz was pinned by the foolishness of the humans' fear– immobilized for this trip, and now aching from where the straps that were supposed to keep him safe had done their job most forcefully on this weak organic frame.

No weapons. No mobility. No chance.

Even when Sector Seven had taken Bumblebee, Jazz had more control over the situation than this. Only Optimus' orders had restrained him from giving chase– from hunting down the ones who'd taken their friend.

He'd never felt more helpless in his life--

_He'd been defeated. Jazz knew it, but couldn't accept it, still fighting the darkness that was falling over him._ _And then, a movement. One of the small figures that had been fleeing a moment before was approaching, leaking from several places– _

"_No... don't touch–" Jazz was helpless. He couldn't push the foolish creature away. His motor control systems had already shut down, leaving him paralyzed. He couldn't harm the humans, not after they'd actually started to help. Not after some of them had turned out to be halfway decent beings, if given a chance. _

_One of the small creature's hands reached out towards the wound that had split his chest open, exposing his heart to the alien light. If the fragile creature were to come in contact with the energies within his body, it– no, not it– he would most likely die._

_The human reached for him, despite the warning– determined–_

"_You don't have to be alone." The soft voice reached him, "I want to help– I just–"_

_The pain returned. Doubled. Trebbled._

_Jazz thought he hard a scream as the darkness finally swept him away to sweet oblivion._

"Jace?" A voice chased away the darkness. The pain subsided to a dull ache. "C'mon. Be all right. Jace! Open your eyes–"

Mikaela?

Jazz obediently opened his eyes to see the same tilted view as before. He was still trapped within the human vehicle, painfully pressed against the side– but a shadow was leaning over him from the other side.

He turned his head to see Mikaela leaning through the empty window frame.

The worry on her face faded as Jazz moved. The memory had faded, leaving him limp and voiceless.

"He's alive, Ratchet–" Mikaela called over her shoulder, and reached for him, leaning further in. "Don't move too much. We'll get you out."

"Please move, Mikaela." Ratchet's rumble came from somewhere above. "I'm going to open the vehicle, so that we can extract them."

"The others–" Jazz found his voice at last, as Mikaela disappeared. He heard the familiar rumble of Ratchet's engine above the stillness in the car. The sound of metal cutting metal somewhere above, as bits of the roof were stripped away to reveal Ratchet standing over them. "We've got to get them outta here before the Decepticon gets here. Atmospheric pulse–"

"Jazz?" Ratchet frowned, pausing in his work.

"Yeah." Jazz winced as Mikaela hopped back in, and began working on the whole seatbelt issue– hopefully her hands were steady. That looked like an awfully sharp knife. "Remembered... everything."

"Careful there." Mikaela had cut him loose, and was working on the handcuffs. One human versus metal meant to keep him restrained?

"They probably have the keys to these up–" Jazz started, and fell silent as the pressure around his wrists fell away. Mikaela held up the cuffs with a triumphant look.

"I'm faster than that." She told him. "Come on, let's get you out–"

Another groan from the front seat. This time Jazz could really look and see.

"They're not hurt badly," Ratchet said, "If it was an atmospheric pulse, I believe it was a glancing blow. Mostly cuts and bruises, just like you."

"Still not promising." Jazz felt solid ground under his feet as he exited the vehicle, leaning for a moment on Mikaela as a wave of dizziness assaulted him. "Decepticons probably think it's dead in the water. Probably been monitoring communications, an' know Ironhide's delayed. We've gotta move them out before they finish whatever it is they were plannin'."

"Ironhide," Ratchet said quietly, as a soft rumble in the distance grew louder. "Is not delayed. He is on his way here. As are three energy signatures– Decepticons. We are out of time."

"Indeed you are," a voice echoed from the copse beside the road.

A violet beam of energy lanced out to strike Ratchet before any of them could move.

"We will have what we came for. And the rest of you... can die."

**Acquisition **

"Ratchet!" Mikaela's cry echoed through the air, as the large Bot was sent flying backwards by the force of the energy beam that had struck him.

The crash of metal against asphalt and dirt broke the temporary paralysis that had gripped him.

Pushing Mikaela behind him, Jazz put himself between her and the now shaking trees, as something– someone large pushed them aside to stand in the gap between roadway and woods.

His shield. A weapon. He needed something.

"I told them this would not be difficult." The faceless red figure said, not even lowering his weapon. "And they were _so_ worried about a few insignificant worms."

"Swindle," Jazz breathed, glancing back at where Ratchet was still sprawled beyond the wrecked SUV. "There's nothing here except a ruined truck, and there're more Bots on the way–"

"Such bravado. But that is where you are most certainly wrong," Jazz could feel the gaze on him. "We have the subject of much concern to these humans. The energy signature of one of our race, that these idiots have been pursuing for months– although it is rather disappointing to find that it wasn't one of our warriors. However, the ghost of a high ranking Autobot stuck in the shell– the oh so fragile body– of an organic being–"

_Him? They were after him?_

"Nice try," Jazz watched the taller being approach, and edged back. "I'm just... an ordinary human. There's nothing here, really. You did all this for noth–"

"Ordinary? Please." Swindle laughed, and switched languages, careful to emit his next words in slow enough tones for the human recipient to catch. "A mere organic wouldn't be able to understand this. However– if you're still so keen on playing games, friend, you won't mind if I bring in some more playmates."

Swindle's weapon swung towards the men still trapped within the vehicle.

If the blast had sent Ratchet sprawling hard enough that he was still stunned, what would it do to ordinary organic beings?

And should he care?

These government agents had been shadowing him for months, watching every step he'd taken since–

A flash of Danni's face crossed his mind. Very tired, very worn, and yet the woman was still smiling as she talked with him, telling him about the things he didn't 'remember'. No– not telling. Teaching. As though she knew he would never remember being Jason Hunt.

Danielle had been protecting him.

Jazz attempted to keep the surprise off of his face, and a more neutral, uncomprehending face towards Swindle. These government guys didn't deserve his help. They'd made his– and Danni's lives miserable. They were nothing but trouble–

"Nothing to say?"

Jazz could hear the hum of power building, as the shot was charged.

"What's going on, 'Jace'–" Mikaela asked from behind him, "We've got to get those guys out of there. If he shoots at them, he'll kill them."

"I–" Jazz tried to make a grab for her as Mikaela ran towards the car.

"You were worried about them before." She called back, "Why are you hesitating now?"

"Yes, 'Lieutenant'. Why are you stopping now? They'll all die if you don't do something." Swindle still emitted in the language that Mikaela couldn't possibly understand. "Or are you going to let the worms die, and come with us anyway?"

"Mikaela– They–" Jazz stopped. _We do not harm humans, but do we allow them to be harmed?_

Most of the people that they'd encountered in the beginning of the short battle– they'd turned out to not be exactly what Jazz had expected. They were all fierce fighters, however, and most had stood their ground.

All of them had been afraid. Like these two. The reason they were following him, the reason they had badgered, bothered, and beleaguered was because they were _afraid_ of him. As Swindle had pointed out, they had no real way of knowing if the signature– the ghost– within this frail body was that of a Decepticon, and a potential danger to them in the guise of an ordinary human. They didn't deserve to die for that.

Jazz ran, pushing Mikaela aside. He knew it was probably too late to do much more than absorb some of the blast himself, and hope that Mikaela would have time to help the two men. And hope that Ratchet would recover enough to come to her aid. He didn't have time to think, to experience any fear that his life would be over in a moment–

Jazz and Jace had both died in Mission City.

The whine of weapons discharge split the air, a split second after the sudden crash of metal on metal.

_Ironhide isn't delayed._

The wash of heat and energy numbed him for a moment, as the shot missed, striking the pavement behind the car. A large furrow of melted asphalt and molten dirt trailed across the highway. Jazz stopped, legs still shaking as he watched the black figure crash into the faceless red one, sending them both tumbling into the trees.

"Jace, are you OK?" Mikaela called from where he'd shoved her out of the way. He started to turn to answer her, saw the startled and horrified expression on her face just as a shadow dropped down behind him with a loud thud.

Bands of metal circled around him– a hand? A strange voice cackled behind him as the hand tightened around Jazz's body, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Got you." The flier said, "Autobots are so easy to catch off-guard."


	19. Exorcism

**Exorcism**

In the inflexible grip, Jazz understood; he didn't stand a chance against the huge armored figure holding him. This frail form had as much power to call upon for escape as a fly in the sticky web of a spider.

Ironhide was occupied, and Ratchet wouldn't be able to free him right now without hurting Jace Hunt's organic frame. Besides that, Decepticons didn't have the same compulsion not to harm humans. It would be a dangerous game either way.

"Let him go!" A voice yelled over the gloating laughter and panicked roar that was rising in Jazz's own head. "Let my brother go, you overgrown... toaster!"

"Danielle?"

Jazz struggled to see where Danni– why was she even _here_?

"_...Simmons is bringing the woman here tomorrow..."_

If that hadn't been a hallucination, then–

"Stand back, Ms. Hunt," Simmons' voice, "Let them help. We're only getting in the way right now."

He struggled again, catching a glimpse of color before the metal grip threatened to dig too deeply into already tender flesh.

Yellow.

Bright, almost obnoxiously vivid yellow; Bumblebee.

He was forced to stop moving then, gaze settling back on the wreckage, where Jazz could now see Mikaela; the girl had resumed the struggle to aid the agents still trapped within. Another figure joined her– not Danielle– a boy, who paused to check on Mikaela– Sam.

That was Sam.

_Streetlights were not really very bright, but they gave enough light for him to see the two humans standing very close to each other, without enhancing anything._

"_What's crackin'" he said not really expecting the strange look from the humans..._

The Sector Seven goons would be fine.

Jazz, however–

The hum of power changed within his captor's circuits, as though getting ready to flee. The massive grip tightened, and an involuntary gasp of pain escaped him.

"Stop." The tones he'd only remembered in dreams, that for a brief time thought he'd never hear again. Optimus. "Let the human go, Thunderwing. He has nothing to do with our fight."

"Does he, Prime?" Thunderwing's sarcasm dripped as he swung around, taking Jazz to face the Autobot leader. "Considering who he is, and what he knows– "

"He is just an ordinary human," Optimus told them quietly, "Who accidentally encountered my dying lieutenant. He was injured, then, in both body and mind."

Jazz froze, trying not to draw in the shuddering breath as the pronouncement hit him. He wasn't Jazz, Autobot Lieutenant. He was plain Jason Hunt.

"He has a scattering of memories from the Lieutenant, and part of his energy signature– A ghostly remnant, that fades faster with each passing day. It will do you no good to question him."

Why couldn't he remember being Jason Hunt? Why was that life not the one that kept flashing into mind?

"_Because it's ordinary. Because you don't want to remember." The voice of doubt told him, taunting him, "The only thing special about Jace Hunt is his overactive imagination, and having been in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

Jace slumped in his captor's grip, ignoring the way the edge of the finger dug into the bruises on his ribs.

Ordinary.

"I would suggest letting him go, Thunderwing, There are those who do not forgive the taking of human lives who have the power to take yours." Optimus was still speaking, but Jace couldn't find the strength to look at him again. "Take Swindle, and leave these humans in peace."

Grudgingly, carelessly, the hand lowered Jace to the ground, leaving him standing on legs that he could barely feel. He swayed in the sudden breeze of the moving Decepticon, as Thunderwing took off.

"Jace–" Danielle was suddenly there, supporting him, just as she'd always done.

Ordinary human.

_Danni grinned as she waved the letter at him._

"_Since you wouldn't send it in yourself, I mailed the manuscript for you. They want it, little bro. We're going to Mission City on Thursday to discuss the details. You're going to be famous. I know it..."_

Dizzily, Jace looked at the concerned woman beside him. Bits and pieces of conversation floated at him. Danni. Donna. Friends. The editor at the publishing house–

_Danni reached for him as he bolted back towards the street. _

"_Don't go! It's too dangerous out there"_

"_He j-j-just saved us, Danni. I-I c-can't just stay here– t-there might be s-something I can do."_ _The stutter, as always, made him too slow. He couldn't take the time to explain, so he just ran._

"Look out!" The voice called Jace back.

Clarity returned, and Jace saw the edge of a wing vectoring towards himself and Danni. Thunderwing had decided, apparently, that if they couldn't have him, no one could. And they didn't mind hurting innocents as well–

It only took a moment to react, pulling Danni along, Jace rolled under the wing, and into the ditch once more– out of range of the Decepticon flier.

Jace thought he heard the sound of weapons fire, as the world turned into a swift blur of movement. The sudden starburst behind his eyes took everything away as his head connected with something solid.


	20. Union

The darkness didn't last long this time. The world only vanished for a moment, then everything was normal again–

_If you could call curling up in a ditch to protect your sister from giant alien killer robots 'normal'. _Jace reminded himself, trying not to flinch as a familiar voice started shouting. _That's... Epps? What is he doing here?_

"Jace–" A familiar voice prodded him, "Jace, are you OK?"

Danielle's face swam into view as he turned his head to see that she was still next to him. It had been instinct that had made him protect her. _His sister, his only living relative– _

"Just a little bump on the head. Nothing to worry about–" Jace tried to smile, tried to relieve the worry that had suddenly started to wrinkle her face again. "How about you?"

"I'm–" Dark eyes filled with tears, as Danielle suddenly threw an arm around him. "I'm sorry."

The sounds of battle dimmed. Perhaps Epps and his friends had helped 'persuade' Thunderwing to take Swindle and leave. Perhaps they were smoking heaps of mechanical parts now. It didn't matter to Jace. He wasn't a part of it anymore.

Jace was ordinary.

He wasn't one of these fantastic creatures– the soul of a living machine trapped within a fragile human body. Not special in any way, other than having survived when he should not have. And carried the delusional memories for such a brief time.

It wasn't so bad, was it?

"_If Jace Hunt isn't special, why did Danielle work so hard to protect him?" An almost amused tone asked quietly. He recognized the voice as his own, and yet– "And why did Donna look thrilled to see him?"_

Perhaps Jace wasn't as ordinary as he'd let himself believe. Even if the memories of being _Jazz_ faded, he'd still have something.

They hadn't been fading, however. They'd been getting stronger, even though Jace's own memories had begun to resurface. It contradicted what Optimus Prime had told Thunderwing.

"_...You said yourself that there is a more than likely possibility that this is just the remnants of memory. A ghost in the system..."_

If Ratchet knew that he was– Jazz was just a ghost, why had he--

"I'm sorry." Danni was letting go. "I shouldn't have kept it all from you. From the moment you– he ran away, I think I knew I was going to lose my brother."

"What? Jace sat up, noting the absence of Decepticon presence in the artificial clearing. "But I'm–"

"I don't know." Danni said. "You– he was determined to help. He tried–"

The vibrations of the ground told Jace that they were no longer alone.

"Ms. Hunt." Simmons' voice– the man was standing next to Optimus– and as far away from Bumblebee as he could get. Jace didn't blame him for that– not after the night his friend had so crudely expressed his disdain for the man. "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine, Director Simmons." Danni rose, "The agents–"

"Idiot one and two are out of a job," the man said with an air of satisfaction, "I wish we could have kept it just a little quieter–"

"Is Ratchet all right?" Jace asked quietly. The big robot hadn't appeared with Optimus and Bumblebee.

"He will be fine." Optimus knelt to study him. Jace was being scanned again, with the leader's limited capabilities. He always did that when he was uncertain about a being he needed to negotiate with. The information came just as easily as the knowledge that Danni was anxious about something– she always twisted her hands like that when she was anxious.

He remembered both– the concepts touching each other– overlapping in places.

"You are injured."

"Nothing a little rest and a little more time won't take care of," Jace would've shrugged, but those bruises were starting to remind him of their presence."Thank you. You just saved my life."

"I could not let them harm you, Jazz." Optimus Prime rumbled quietly, "Not again."

Jace froze at the name. The implication was clear.

"But you said that he– I was just–"

"Would you rather have been taken prisoner?" Simmons interrupted, "The truth would have probably gotten you killed, and us back to square one."

"The truth?" Jace frowned, "But I remember– I'm Jason Hunt. An ordinary guy who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Then you don't remember what you said," A familiar voice spoke. One that he remembered from long ago, and yet– "What was it... 'I'm not gonna let you face him alone again. You're my friend–'"

Bumblebee's voice trailed away. _But he spoke out loud_. Jace bit back a sudden welling of emotion. His voice had returned–

"'And I'm gonna protect you.'" Jazz found the words in his memory. "'Even if I have to take him on myself. You're not gonna go through that again–' but I'm– "

"What do you remember about that day, Jace?" Danni asked him quietly, "We were taking cover– you'd been hit by debris, but then you saw _him_ land in the street."

"He was hurt," Jace said slowly, "He'd diverted attention long enough for us to get out of the street– and then he was thrown down. Discarded , like some broken toy– dying. "

"Most likely his spark was fading. The field that protected it was damaged." Optimus sighed heavily, "Ratchet could not get to him, and protect the one carrying the Allspark."

"It was beautiful," Jace murmured. "Like the heart of a star, colors dancing– there was something broken. I could see something– I thought, maybe I could help–"

Memory flooded him.

_The orb was pulsating weakly, trapped in a frame that could no longer sustain it. Maybe if he could stop the flow of fluids– piece something back together... He had to try _something

_Jace reached for it, ignoring the rough pain-saturated voice warning him of danger._

_His fingers brushed the white-hot surface of the orb, and – _

"You touched his spark," there was no accusation in the voice, "Ratchet recognized the pattern to the scars as one he had seen in Council records. It is not the first time such an accident has occurred."

"I don't understand. What does that have to do with me having memories of both?"

"The light. When you touched it," Danni was shaking as Jace looked at her– as though she was trying not to cry– as though she were afraid he were going to vanish, "It got brighter– surrounded you for a few minutes, and then vanished. You fell. I thought you were dead for a minute– "

"The light was the essence of the being whose designation was, in this language 'Jazz'.It was absorbed into your body." Optimus still spoke quietly. "Ratchet was concerned. The few examples that he remembered ended the same way. Death."

"Not precisely," Ratchet's voice broke in. "There were a few who went mad from the electrical patterns being overlaid on their neural systems, memories being overwritten, changed. Loyalties– they eventually died from the stress, or killed themselves."

They all looked to where Ratchet was standing. Somehow he'd managed to pull himself together. The expression on his face was one of concern, yes, however, curiosity– as though the medic had just found something that confounded his sensors, and wanted to study it further.

He was watching Jace.

"So the dead ones were the lucky ones?" Jace couldn't help wondering. "Insanity doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"In a word, yes." Ratchet stared down at Jace with the peculiar scanning gaze. "The ones who did not die were trapped, not knowing what memory was real, and what was false for the body that they were in. The memory problems were just the beginning. Hallucinations, involuntary actions. I believe the humans would call it 'being possessed'."

"So I'm possessed."

"This has never happened with an organic being before. Humans have untapped potential, and wasted storage capacity–"

"Ratchet." Jace sighed. "Just get to it already. Who am I?"

"You are both." Ratchet said solemnly. "And neither."

"Both?" More than one voice queried in a variety of timbres and pitches, human and other. All with the same note of incredulous inquiry.

"To use a metaphor, the two of you are like rivers. Lives that might have come from different directions. Swift current. Slow current. It doesn't matter– at the moment that you met, the moment that the two of you came in contact, those waters merged and mingled. Initially it would have been a rough crash– especially if the personalities were different. But in time, they mingle, and the waters become as one."

"So I'm going to go nuts–"

"Untapped and wasted storage capacity. There may be things lost, overlapping, or reinforced, but from the scans that I took... the deterioration is just not happening. Your energy signature has been altered, and adapted."

"I was always good at adapting, wasn't I?" Jazz mused, feeling the anxiety lighten. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't strange. He wasn't alone. "So, doc– there's no way back from this, is there?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then what is going to happen to him?" Danni's voice was strong now, and from the look that Jazz/Jace caught as he turned to her... she wasn't going to back down. "

"He will come with us. We can protect him that way." Optimus told her.

Danni's hands went to her hips as she glared upwards.

"He's also my brother." She said. "I thought I lost him once. I'm not going to let him go that easily..."

"I'm still here." Jazz said, "And I can hear you."

"He's my lieutenant as well. We need to keep him out of enemy hands." Optimus had a similar stern and stubborn expression.

Jazz looked around, wondering if they were going to listen to his opinion on the matter.

Epps was watching Danni with a look of awed fear. Bumblebee already off to help Sam and Mikaela.

Ratchet was looking happier than he had in quite some time.

Sighing, Jazz waited for the discussion to end. No matter what either of these two decided, he would make his own way. After all, Optimus had said it best;

'_Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.'_


End file.
